


Tales of Sex, Love, and Exasperation

by PerfectlyGruntled



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crowley's a lil lovesick is all, F/M, Fluff, a spot of angst, idk he's a romantic, it's good in the end!, maybe a little ooc Crowley?, mentions of sex but nothing immensely in-detail
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:08:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26817856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerfectlyGruntled/pseuds/PerfectlyGruntled
Summary: You and Crowley have been two halves of one debaucherous whole, but what happens when the most powerful demon in Hell realizes he may want more from you than what he's already had?
Relationships: Crowley/Reader, mentioned Destiel - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41





	Tales of Sex, Love, and Exasperation

**Author's Note:**

> Some of it was meant to be italicized but I do not, at the moment, know how to make that happen. There will be revision when I discover this hidden secret. Until then, interpret as you will!

Eyes glazed over, Cowley rested his weary head in his palm, completely disregarding the aimless ramblings of hellish peasants as they presented themselves before their king with all manner of lowly problems. His thoughts could not be spared for the petty issues of his underlings, much less the ever-present, ever- _boring_ matter of soul collection.

No, the only topic his mind could be bothered with was you. Dear God, it had been barely a week since he'd last seen you and already Crowley felt his mangled soul pining. Pining for you. For your touch, your voice, your body...his being had been diminished to a clingy mania to rival that of a hormonal school girl.

Briefly, the normally heartless demon wondered over the drawl of the monotonous speech (an imbecilic pair arguing incessantly about the rightful property-bearer of a _chicken_ of all things) if this had been your ploy all along. If your intentions had always been to reduce him to a muddled mess of emotional need. His thoughts were filled with you- an attribute his arms envied. Crowley was hooked on you. Addicted. You'd fallen into his heart just as you'd fallen into his bed—with a dash of encouragement and then brilliant enthusiasm.

And holy hell did you make yourself at home. Not a day, not an hour, not a minute went by that Crowley didn't yearn for your company. Every waking moment was spent wishing you weren't so far away, that you didn't insist on remaining topside, that you would accept his unspoken plea of companionship.

He missed you.

Missed the feeling of you, writhing in pleasure beneath him. The sharp bite of your nails scraping his shoulders as you rode him – torturously slow, _deliciously_ painful. He missed the noises you made when he angled just right, the sound of his name when it was shaped by your perfect lips. The taste of you drove him wild, borderline manic. Your scent lingered on his sheets, his suits, taunting him mercilessly, a constant reminder of how intoxicating you were pressed against him. His confidence regarding you had been reduced from a towering fortress to a ghostly wreckage, demolished by the hurricane of your passion.

Images of you ran through Crowley's mind, a whirlwind of fantasies, memories, both to ease his pain and fuel it—certainly enough to make him shift uncomfortably in his throne. You, arched beneath him, his name parting your tempting lips. You, bouncing your hips agonizingly slowly, nimble fingers tugging his hair as you drew groans and curses from him like prayers.

You, slumbering peacefully, a soft smile gracing your normally harsh features as your hands curled loosely around his satin comforter. You, eyebrows raised, gazing at him with a surprised grin as he presented you with a bouquet of white roses on Valentine's Day – he'd assured you they were merely a peace offering, though he'd neglected to mention how hard-pressed he'd been to find flowers so pristine; how many miles he'd travelled, threats he'd made, just for a dozen roses. You, in one of the many moments when the heart you'd helped him find nearly stopped, slashing through a horde of vampires unassisted, ferocious and in control but so precious, vulnerable.

You, in a state of resplendence only a daydream could provide, lounging across a throne beside his, cracking jokes with him as the pair of you enjoyed a throne room all to yourselves. You, his huntress queen.

He'd tried to convince himself that his infatuation with you laid only in sex. That you were nothing more than a means to distract himself from the endless boredom of ruling a kingdom of dimwits. But even he could only deny for so long, and he'd already proven that he was notoriously bad at denying you. You were better than human blood. Your withdrawal was far, far worse.

Crowley refused to sink so low as to say that you were taunting him deliberately, but God, some days it felt like it. With the way you joked so easily with Moose and Squirrel; with the way you'd always shoot glances at Cas and Dean when they were having one of their moments... _Argh_. Why couldn't you be more invested in your own potential relationship?!

Before Crowley's lamentation could go any further, he was jarred from his stupor by the telltale swoop in the pit of his stomach; someone was summoning him. He barely had a moment to stand up and straighten his suit before his surroundings spun, morphing into a dingy room that was growing increasingly familiar. He was greeted with you, directly in his line of sight, sending a jolt of frenzied energy shivering through his nervous system, threatening to spread to his respiratory even as it infected his cardiovascular. His heartbeat, so rarely activated beyond a soft thrum, pounded in his ears, so loud he nearly forgot his line. A hasty "Hello, darling" rolled off his tongue on reflex, sending your eyebrow of choice rocketing towards your hairline.

In all honesty, the sight of the King of Hell, smug and regal as ever, both excited and disappointed you in equal measure. Really? No warm welcome? You'd known you shouldn't have gotten your hopes up, but maybe a deviant from the usual greeting might've been appreciated. Still, he was a demon, and always would be. To expect him to care about you like you did him was absurd, a whimsy that could never be fulfilled, covet it as you might.

"Hey, Cowley," you responded simply, your eyebrow travelling higher when the demon in question's expression wavered, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You had no way of knowing that his thoughts mirrored the ones you'd been having only a moment ago. _'Only a 'Hey?''_ God help him, you were stunning. Even in those day-old-clothes you were radiant, with your hair pulled back away from your face in a loose ponytail, lips parted ever so slightly as your tongue skimmed your teeth, one hand gently grasping the handle of a rather old looked, possibly sacrificial knife while the other remained clenched into a fist, wrist suspended over a summoning bowl.

Crowley eyed the sliver of beading blood distastefully, guilt at second-handedly marring your beautiful skin already bubbling inside him. "You could've just called," he remarked, gravelly voice barely retaining its casual air as disapproval at your methods fought to overthrow his demeanor.

"Dean tried." You looked away from the demon before you with difficulty and set the offending knife on the steel table behind you, your fingers lingering on the handle only long enough to assure that it would remain where it rested, rather than toppling to the floor. "Said you didn't pick up." Although you were being quite curt with your dialogue, the amusement so often laced in your banter was clearly audible, bringing with it a soft, lilting cadence to your words.

Latching onto the hint of humor, Crowley chuckled softly, eyes trained on your form as you held yourself tautly before him. "Ah. So that's what that call was about. I assumed he wanted to chat, invite me over for tea. I'm not one for dates." His chest swelled with pride when his jest drew a laugh from you, his breathing easier as your businesslike mannerism crumbled, leaving behind the nonchalant you he knew so well. Despite that, his keen eyes did detect a hint of tension in your posture, one that forced your shoulders back. Your eyes, when they met his, held in them emotions indecipherable to him.

"Ignoring him'll only get you stuck in a devil's trap," you quipped lightheartedly, absentmindedly running your fingers over the ridge of the new slice in your forearm. The blood was dried, crusty; you'd clean and bandage yourself when Crowley left.

"A devil's trap?" Crowley exclaimed with mock incredulity, taking the moment to truly examine the surface he stood on – you'd distracted him from the normally habitual procedure of checking the floors and ceilings. "After all we've been through?" Sure enough, beneath his shiny dress-shoes leered a neatly painted devil's trap, pale white against the grimy floor of the 'dungeon.' Sighing, his eyes flickered away, over your proud grin to your fingers, skimming over the shallow cut in your arm. For the sake of his sanity, he had to remind himself that you were a hunter, that you'd survived bullet wounds, that a small slice was nothing to you.

"The boys insisted," you shrugged, unwittingly shifting the blame. If you'd had it your way, Crowley would be free to roam, but your partners trusted him far less than you did. Even with their hesitance to trust Crowley, you couldn't help wanting to be close to him. You'd taken to cuddling after sex, reluctantly at first, something that Crowley had thankfully neglected to question. He would often nuzzle his face into your hair, place lazy kisses on the back of your neck, and other uncharacteristically gentle actions you always chalked up to the aftershock of amazing sex. His arms around your waist, hands gently caressing your skin as he murmured praise into your ear...fuck, it was as heavenly as hell could get.

No matter how you sliced it, things had changed. Deepened. Even the sex was more profound than before, more meaningful than you allowed yourselves to acknowledge. Fucking had morphed into lovemaking, so slowly and instinctually that it had taken the pair of you six months to realize how far you'd come and how close you'd grown.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of being in this damned place again?" Crowley inquired, interrupting your reverie.

Jarred back to reality, you rolled your eyes, regarding Crowley with a lopsided smile you couldn't suppress. The sight of him alone was enough to lift your spirits, electrifying your nerves until you could barely regulate your need to have him permanently in your life, to hold him close and talk for hours on end, days if you could. Had he intended to do this to you? To break down your walls and leave you needing him so bad at times physical pain would blossom in your chest?

The way he acted said yes. Cocky, proud, smug...he knew what he was doing to you. But did he know the extent of your passion for him? He was a tease in the bedroom; his confidence in the sheets never faltered. But now, as he stood before you, you sensed an aura of uncertainty surrounding him. In each uneasy shift, each dart of his eyes, the rushed greeting that had insentiently spilled from his lips upon sight...was he nervous?

"Luv, are you alright? Have you been getting enough sleep?" _'What am I saying?'_ Crowley cursed himself and his mollycoddling, hoping you'd pass his worrying tone off as concealed mockery.

Unfortunately for him, you didn't. Eyebrows raised, a slight grin graced your features. "Aw, Crowley, you're all mixed up," you simpered, laughing with as much ease as you could manage, "You're my _daddy_ , not my mom."

And, magnificently, he blushed. Crowley _blushed_. Your eyes widened as they took in the phenomenon. Crowley looked...bashful? "You never call me that," he grumbled pointedly, recovering as swiftly and gracefully as he could. Christ, he _was_ a schoolgirl.

"I'll call you whatever I want for the sake of comedy."

God, he loved you. Your proud little grin, your laugh, the way the corners of your eyes crinkled to accompany your smile. You were a work of art, and not a shit one like a Van Gogh (a complete asshole, even before the ear incident, but his soul made a lovely addition to hell's gallery). He'd never been the type to praise God, for obvious reasons, but still every day he thanked the dick upstairs for creating you. You were far from perfect by most standards – peppered with scars, laden with guilt, decorated with worry lines and the occasional stretch mark – but Crowley would never seek to change any characteristic of your body, even after exploring every inch. _Especially_ after exploring every inch.

"Oi, King of Hell! You sure I'm the one who's not getting enough sleep?" A tone that would have once been sharp and biting was now amused, caring. Luckily—or unluckily—for you, Crowley was too preoccupied with decrypting his own thoughts to spare the time to examine yours any deeper than presented.

"Demons don't need sleep," Crowley chuckled, rolling his eyes at your nonsensicality before shooting you a wink. "Now, _little huntress_ , to business."

It was your turn to blush. Heat crept up your neck at the mention of the new nickname, tinting your cheeks a soft pink, though you weren't about to complain. Okay, maybe you'd complain just a teensy bit. "'Little?' I could kick your ass so hard you'd taste it for a week and you're calling me 'little?'"

"Come on darling. Just let me have this."

You sighed, feigning defeat, but unable to keep a smile from tugging your lips because God, the damn demon was so cute with his hands in his suit pockets and that damn blush still dashed across his face. "We need help on a demon case and you're our best bet. Sounds like there's been a rogue demon in-

"Give me three minutes and I'll have him good and dead for you."

Your eyebrows reached once more towards your hairline at the visibly eager response, the satin _’for you’_ lingering in the air. As if simultaneously realizing how prompt the statement had been, how uncharacteristically acquiescent, the pair of you became very interested in your own feet.

"Erm..." you began, suddenly very aware of the change as your mind raced through the months, cataloguing the shy touches you'd brushed off as accidental, the sweet compliments you'd assumed were only shielded mockery, the one-on-one conversations you'd grown to love but thought to be nothing more than small talk to him, foreplay. Pieces you'd never considered part of the puzzle were suddenly connecting left and right, triggering the giddy smile drawing at your reluctant lips. You felt like a conspiracy theorist; like everything you'd discovered was nothing more than your brain seeking to fulfill your heart. "That's pretty fast. Sure you can do it in three?"

"For you, I could do anything."

There it was again. _’For you.’_ God, why couldn't he stop saying _’For you?’_ Mentally kicking himself, Crowley drew his eyes hesitantly up from his dress shoes to you, only to find you beaming.

His accented pronouncement rang over and over in your head, sending elation washing over you in waves. Your throat felt tight, like you were about to cry, but God, you couldn't stop smiling. _‘For you, I could do anything.’_ You had to fight to suppress your urge to embrace him right then and there, to hug him tight and tell him how many times you'd dreamed of this moment, how much you loved him. Crowley. The bloody King of Hell.

"Crowley, I-

"(Y/N), it just slipped out. I didn't mean to-

"Really, it's fine. I don't...mind...or anything..."

Both of you were grinning like idiots, nervously avoiding eye contact, drunk off your racing thoughts and hearts. Your eyes latched onto your feet again, bedecked in mismatched socks (one a creamy off-white; the other a would-be-vibrant purple), while his became suddenly very absorbed in the many sigils and implements of torture lining the walls.

"So...um..."

"Yeah, I should probably...you know...go kill that demon and..."

"And get back to hell, right? I mean, you've gotta be really busy, doing all that _fascinating_ king stuff you told me about."

Crowley rolled his eyes playfully at your witticism. He'd complained to you – more like ranted to you – again and again about how dreadful his job was, catching you whenever he needed a while to vent ever since the pair of you breached the boundary of friendly familiarity. And here again was proof that you'd listened. Cared.

It was impulse that made him do it, really. Impulse that catapulted the words from his lips. But once he started talking, he just couldn't seem to stop, like a dam had broke inside his heart to spill his jumbled emotions forth in a tumultuous rush of... _feelings._

"(Y/N), there's something I have to tell you."

You opened your mouth to interrupt, but quickly shut it again, excitement and anticipation shining in your eyes as they fixated on his.

Taking your silence as affirmation to continue, the suddenly _very_ humanized demon did just that. "I've known you for...God, for years. I've known _of_ you even longer, and Christ, Love, you've just...you've put up with me. Hell, you've put _out_ with me." His confidence couldn't seem to decide whether it was low as hell or high as Metatron in those segments of his homeless life that no one talked about but everyone knew occurred.

"(Y/N), I don't know what it is—maybe the human blood had a lasting effect, maybe you're just undeniably charming- Which you are under any circumstance, but-

"Crowley," you cut in, your face quite a few shades darker than normal, "if you're going where I think you're going then-

"Hush, darling, I'm trying to confess my feelings for you."

You both froze. _’For you.’_

_’I brought these flowers **for you**.’_

_’Darling, it's okay. I'm here **for you**.’_

_’ **For you** , I could do anything.’ ___

__"And those are...?" you murmured, your words barely a whisper, a confession in and of themselves in the still air of the sound-proofed room._ _

__"Love."_ _

__You half expected him to continue, as though Crowley had merely been addressing you. Instead, he simply watched your reaction, eyes wide, lips forming a hopeful smile. The word hung in the air, the full meaning taking a moment to hit you. He loved you. Crowley. He really loved you._ _

__He was so vulnerable, so laid out in front of you, he couldn't have lied if he wanted to. He meant what he said, meant it with every fiber of his being. He knew you, inside and out. Your pride, your insecurity, everything you presented and you hid—he loved every bit of it. Nothing could deter that conviction, that absolute certainty that after centuries of living, of seeing the great, the good, and the horrible rise and fall, _you_ were unconditionally, unquestionably perfect._ _

__"Crowley, I-_ _

__"(Y/N), if you don't want me like I want you, it's fine. Really, it is. I don't want to pressure you. (Y/N), I never want to pressure you."_ _

__"Crowley-_ _

__"You’re going to bloody reject me, aren’t you? Well that’s fine, truly, it’s just- I can’t have you in my bed any longer without you at least knowing how I feel."_ _

__" _Crowley_ -_ _

__"You have no idea how much this has been eating me up inside. (Y/N), dear Jesus I love you. I've loved you for months, b-_ _

__" _Fergus Roderick MacLeod_ , if you don't quit your monologuing and let me speak then so help me Chuck I'll gag you, and _not_ in the fun way."_ _

__Caught mid-word, Crowley stared at you, flabbergasted and instantly regretting ever exposing you to his mother. Slowly, a sheepish grin spread across his face and reluctantly he turned to you, chin tilted down ever-so-slightly in an unusual show of submission._ _

__"Crowley," you began, mouth and throat suddenly very dry. "You're...argh, just bear with me here...you're amazing. I never expected this from you...us...but here we are. I don't even know how to explain how much I- ah, fuck it. Crowley, I love you."_ _

__Astonished, the king's hazel eyes bored into yours, his jaw slackened. It was one thing to say it, to allow the foreign words to take their first steps past his lips, but to hear the phrase repeated back to him brought with it a different feeling altogether. Never in all his years, his centuries, could he recall those words spoken directly to him. Maybe his mother had dropped the phrase a couple of times during her brief stay with at the palace, but never in sincerity. Never like this._ _

__"You really-"_ _

__"Yes! Fucking yes, Crowley! And I have for months!"_ _

__" _Months_? You didn't say anything for _months_?"_ _

__"You're one to talk," you scoffed, taking a few tentative steps forward to stand just before the outer rim of the pearly circle he was trapped inside. "So that's what the flowers were about. The hell kinda witchcraft did you use on 'em? They're still alive!"_ _

__Crowley shrugged, regarding you adoringly. "Nothing much. Simple ingredients. You kept them?"_ _

__"Of course I kept them! They're up by my bed!"_ _

__The king beamed from ear to ear. "Good. You have no idea how much work it took to find those. Australia. I had to go to _Australia_ to pick a dozen damned flowers."_ _

__"Why'd you do that?" you chuckled, "I don't know what century you're living in but nowadays, there are stores that sell flowers."_ _

__"Oh hardy har har," he retorted, quickly conjuring up an excuse. "People do crazy things when they're in love."_ _

__"Yeah," you agreed, "sometimes until those crazy things can't walk right in the morning. Believe me, I know."_ _

__Crowley laughed loudly, both of you high off euphoria. "Come now, Love. This is serious." He reached forward to take your hand, only to recoil when the devil's trap kept him confined. "You wouldn't mind turning me loose, would you?"_ _

__"Oh yeah," you nodded, flushing in embarrassment and rubbing the back of your neck apologetically. "Let me just..." You trailed off, grabbing the knife you'd used to summon him with what felt like an eternity ago and kneeling down. "I like how this one turned out. Might wanna keep it for later," you explained distractedly as your fingers skimmed over the even white of your hunters' artwork, picking a spot and cutting a sliver through the dried paint._ _

__Crowley was at your level in seconds, arms tangled in yours. "Christ!" you laughed, squirming as his beard tickled your skin._ _

__"I love you, (Y/N). I love you, I love you, fuck I love you."_ _

__"Then quit trying to kill me! I feel like I'm being smothered to death!"_ _

__"That's the plan. Then you can rule with me forever."_ _

__You knew he was joking, but somehow, the idea of being Crowley's queen didn't sound half bad to you. Of course, hunting would always be your employment. You'd be saving peoples' asses until someone finally managed to put you in the ground and made sure you stayed, quite the feat as Crowley would no doubt send you back out until he could no longer manage it. And then...who knew? Death didn't mean the end for the pair of you. You couldn't possibly go to heaven after all you'd done as a hunter. Plus screwing the king of hell was an evident blot on your spiritual record. You were hell bound, fated to spend eternity in the basement, but so was Crowley._ _

__Crowley pulled back, arms still wrapped around your waist and shoulder, holding you as close as he could while still getting a good look at you. "Would you...erm...do you want to have dinner? Tonight? With me?"_ _

__It was as if your grin just couldn't stop growing, the upward curve answer enough. "I thought you weren't one for dates."_ _

__Crowley would have rolled his eyes if he could pry them from you. "Shut up," he scoffed, reveling in how you seemed to positively glow with joy, how you practically clung to him as he pulled you to him._ _

__"Aw, King of Hell's all nervous about asking me out," you teased affectionately, resting your forehead on his._ _

__Crowley scoffed again, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on the bridge of your nose. "You do tend to have that effect, Luv. It's not my fault you're thoroughly intoxicating."_ _

__Your cheeks darkened and you sighed happily, balling your hands around the front of his blazer and pulling his lips to yours. What was normally rough and combative was gentle, tender, expressive in a way previously unachievable for the pair of you. His hands migrated farther apart, one resting securely on the small of your back while the other wove the familiar path into your hair. Yours slung themselves around his neck as your lips moved in sync, merging surprisingly softly. Seeking closeness, he pulled you onto his lap, your thinly clothed ankles linking on the cold stone behind him._ _

__Unfortunately, being human, you still had to breathe. If you hadn't, the kiss might have gone on forever. Too soon, you were pried apart by your need to absorb oxygen, setting a playfully disappointed pout dancing across Crowley's face._ _

__"Come now, darling, you can go longer than that. I _know_ you can."_ _

__You blinked rapidly and rolled your eyes, grinning and biting your lip softly. "Oh yeah, you would."_ _

__Crowley simply chuckled, sighing contentedly when your fingers slid gently through his hair. It was soft to the touch, a silky floof you had found your fingers drawn to ever since you bridged the gap of business-fuckbuddies to bashful more-than-friends-with-benefits, and your movements earned you a rare genuine smile from him. A wide, toothy, innocently adorable smile._ _

__"Cute," you hummed, more on reflex than with actual intention._ _

__Crowley's eyebrows raised, smile unwavering. "Oh, am I?" he murmured, cocking his head to the side and blinking lazily up at you._ _

__"Indisputably so." You nodded, shifting in his lap to poke his nose properly. He went cross-eyed for a moment, comically focusing on your finger, his dazzling smile practically glowing._ _

__You sighed softly, resting your forehead on his shoulder and relaxing against him. God, he was like a furnace. His breath fluttered against the back of your neck and, though you couldn't see it, he'd shut his eyes, taking you in with the rest of his senses. The silence that fell between you was warm, easy, one of many to come._ _

__"Rethinking your decision?" your King finally chuckled, the break in the quiet comfortable, like the feeling of conversation over a crackling fire, segmented with periodical pauses filled with thought evaluation and dizzy-eyed daydreaming._ _

__"Cherishing the moment," you corrected, nuzzling your face into the crook of his suit-clad neck and breathing deeply. The scent of him – of whiskey and fiery cologne and something unrecognizable but undeniably tempting – that once put you on edge now calmed your breathing, sent waves of peace flowing through you._ _

__Crowley hummed softly, shutting his eyes and tucking your head under his chin. "I've loved you for so long, (Y/N). It nearly drove me insane, having you to touch but not to hold. To keep."_ _

__Your heart fluttered at his confession and you smiled against his chest, pulling back again to quirk one eyebrow at him. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" you beseeched, hesitant to admit that you could sympathize a great deal with his words._ _

__"Have you ever tried talking to yourself, darling? It's impossible to keep up a train of thought. You can be rather distracting, Luv."_ _

__You rolled your eyes to the heavens, a grin playing on your lips. "You're so beautiful," Crowley murmured, sincerity and awe unconcealed in his accented voice. A deep red blush painted your cheeks, darkening as he continued. "Your laugh, your smile...you're perfect. Unbelievably, thoroughly perfect. God, even your soul is absolutely breathtaking."_ _

__Ah yes. Your soul. The essence that had started this, everything with him. If you hadn't made that deal (Crowley's help finding Rowena for your soul as insurance), you never would have kissed. Fucked. Begun your passionate yet calculatedly impersonal (or so you'd intended) routine. Your daydreams of the King of Hell pounding you into the mattress, making you scream so that even Naomi who art in heaven knew who you belonged to, would never have been _more_ than fulfilled. Your mind, previously occupied with destroying every set of panties you owned, wouldn't have had room to dream about Crowley in other, more domestic, seemingly unfeasible ways._ _

__Bless your soul._ _

__"Woah there, Romeo," you joked, resting your forehead against his and gazing into the pools of adoring hazel that met you with unwavering sincerity. "I'm already in love with you. No need to try and woo me again."_ _

__You felt Crowley's chest swell with pride, pressing gently against yours as he shifted you in his grasp, looping his arms around your waist to better hold you to him. He regarded you with appraisal and admiration, and was that a hint of wonder in his smug grin? "What can I say?" A chuckle rumbled up through his chest and he craned his neck to press a gentle, lingering kiss to your temple. "I'm an overachiever."_ _

__Your smile was setting his not-heart fluttering ten-thousand miles a minute. He was still in shock, astonishment fogging his brain. Could he be asleep? Could this all be a dream?_ _

__His doubtful thoughts were put on pause, interrupted by an utterance from you he would never tire of. "I love you," you murmured, eyes overflowing with emotion as tears formed in the corners of your eyes._ _

__No, this wasn't a dream. Crowley had never in his wildest, most farfetched fantasies imagined you'd cry upon confessing. He'd seen you cry only once, held you as you shook and whimpered...this was certainly different. He was too focused on your tears, your face, brimming with pure delight, to notice his own watery emotion threatening to roll down his cheeks (which were beginning to hurt from an unrelenting smile) and into his beard._ _

__"I love you, (Y/N)." Now that he'd said it once, it seemed to be the only phrase he sought to pass his lips. He wanted, _needed_ you to know of his devotion to you, and damn if he wasn't going to make up for lost time. For every greeting and parting when he'd almost let it slip; for every moment you'd both laid, basking in the afterglow, when the words had teetered on the tip of his tongue; for every phone call he'd yearned to end with the simple, impactful words._ _

__"I love you so, so much. You have no _idea_ how long I've wanted to tell you that. I love you, and when you're my queen-_ _

__Both your heads shot up, along with your eyebrows, when the dungeon door clanged open. "(Y/N), have you figured out about the- oh." The giant silhouette turned from looking between the pair of you to holler down the hall, "Dean! They're fucking again!"_ _

__Above your indignant protests of Sam's accusation could be heard Dean's response: a somewhat muffled "Tell them to speed things up! We've gotta get this case on the road before things go south!"_ _

__"They're not even naked yet! We might as well just leave 'em behind!"_ _

__"Fuck off, Moose!"_ _

__Crowley gawked at you with a proud grin. Sam's eyebrows raised in gentle exasperation and he chuckled lightly. "He's really rubbed off on you, huh, (Y/N)?" he teased._ _

__"All over her."_ _

__"He's right."_ _

__Sam made a face and rolled his eyes. "You two are disgusting."_ _

__"Disgusting in the name of _love_ , Sam," Crowley riposted, wrapping is arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder._ _

__To your surprise, the brunette Winchester merely rolled his eyes again. "It's about time..." he huffed, shaking his head at the pair of you._ _

__You and Crowley exchanged a flummoxed glance, lost. "What do you mean...?" you asked suspiciously, shifting in Crowley's lap to fix your narrow-eyed gaze on the gargantuan man in the doorway._ _

__"Well you haven't exactly been discreet."_ _

__In the face of open-mouthed silence, Sam sighed, elaborating. "Come on. You've been dancing around this for months. Dean and I started making bets. Speaking of which..." Much to your indignation, Sam pulled his wallet from his pocket, extracting a piece of worn lined paper and unfolding it. "...who said 'I love you' first?"_ _

__Wordlessly, you both pointed at Crowley, your forefinger brushing his chest while his thumb looped over your shoulder to indicate himself._ _

__Sam cursed and glared playfully at you. "Come on, (Y/N)," he sighed in mock disappointment, "now Cas and I both owe Dean forty bucks."_ _

__Crowley drowned out your "Aw" with an affronted "Cas bet against me!? He doesn't even know how money works!"_ _

__You laughed along with Sam, eventually drawing Crowley into good humor. Never once had you dared to imagine that you'd find yourself situated in the King of Hell's lap, laughing at him with Sam Winchester. Not until you met him had you dreamed you'd fall in love with Crowley. And to find that he reciprocated your feelings...Jesus fucking Christ, Chuck must have really forgiven you for that one time you got hopped up on _really_ strong cold medication and used 'Bugs' as a tissue box._ _

__"So, this isn't a joke?" Sam inquired, expression turning serious. You gulped nervously, leaning into Crowley's embrace and protectively wrapping one arm around his silky shoulders. Returning the gesture, your king pulled you close and glared testily up at Sam, who continued with a huff._ _

__"You really didn't notice how much you loved each other until _now_?"_ _

__"Fuck off, Sam!" you objected immediately, ignoring Crowley's laughter as he muffled his gruff bark with the crook of your neck._ _

__"You know, he has a point, Love," he teased, "I brought you flowers. _And_ I tolerated all your damn human clinging." He placed a hasty kiss on your nose when he noticed your mock-vexed expression, mistaking it for real annoyance, only to sigh in relief when you laughed brightly._ _

__"Shut up. You love my clinging."_ _

__"I don't need to be here for this," Sam muttered, moving to close the door._ _

__"Yeah, that's right! Scram!" you yelled after him, collapsing in a fit of giggles when Crowley's scruff tickled your skin, his lips ravishing your neck in response._ _

__Sam heaved a sigh and leaned against the door for a moment, smiling when he heard your laughter sound. You were happy. Yes, Crowley was happy too, but the hunter somehow found himself more concerned with your well-being than with your demonic partner's._ _

__As his massive legs carried him down the hall, Sam's smile grew into a triumphant grin. Finally, the romantic tension that had been sending him out of rooms whenever he saw the pair of you together had been resolved. He'd been on the verge of tying the both of you to chairs and leave you in a closet until you confessed. Thankfully, it hadn't come to that._ _

__With a content sigh, Sam shook his head, steeling himself. The chair method might still come in handy for his next big project as self-appointed bunker-cupid._ _

_'That's one pair down, one to go.'_


End file.
